


if I were a weapon

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bland being canonically unsupportive, Daisy changed Phil forever, F/M, Future Fic, Sappy Ending, Soldiers together, low key angst don't hate me, mentions of other relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5265662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't really know what this is, just exploring themes and how the characters have changed over time.  Title from the Suzanne Vega song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if I were a weapon

“How did it go?”

“May tossed me on my ass about a dozen times.  That’s how it was supposed to go, right?”

It’s dripping sarcasm, and he seems a bit sulky, leaning against the locker.

She needs him to know how to not rely on his powers when he’s in a tough spot.

He falls back on them when he feels angry, or afraid, like a reflex.

And people could get hurt.

“We were taught to hide,” he says, throwing in the towel, literally, across the room towards the bin against the wall.

“And to not worry about hurting people that aren’t like us,” she answers.

His eyes meet hers for a moment. She’s hitting a raw spot, she knows it.

Wanting to be careful about it, but he’s already been in the field, and Andrew’s not exactly available right now.

“That’s what your mother believed,” he starts. “People that aren’t like us tag us, cut us open to see what we’re made of, like we’re parts,” he says, yanking open the door to take out a clean shirt and slamming it shut again.

“You know that’s not true,” she answers.  “I’m not talking about the ATCU, or HYDRA.  People hunting us.”

“My friend tipped off the authorities,” he says, ripping his shirt off over his head.  “The minute he thought I was an alien.”

“Because he was afraid.  You were presented to everyone as a threat. By the ACTU."

He looks her over, seeing the anger poking through her composure.

“That’s what’s great about hiding,” he says, stretching his arms through the clean shirt, tugging it down over his waist.

“How can you expect them treat us like human beings,” she asks, “If we can’t wait to make them feel afraid?”

“We’re not humans,” he laughs at her, shaking his head.

“We can’t hide forever,” she tells him. “We don’t have the choice now, and we shouldn’t have to.”

“I hate to say it, but, you sound like your mother,” he says, walking past her to the door.

“We can make a difference,” she says, as he stops in his tracks.

“Because we’re weapons.  And now, everyone’s going to want one.”

“We’re not just weapons, we’re-“

 “Just like SHIELD does,” he says, looking her over before walking out the door.

 

###

 

They’re in his office, and it’s late.

He’s come back from his…. thing with Price, now that they’re sharing intel regularly.

She’s updating their database and looking over the records of the Inhuman subjects they have in stasis, and more importantly, how they’re containing them and how they’re tracking them.

Trying to ignore the long silences that have grown between them.

“Do you believe we’re weapons?”

She just puts it out there.

He doesn’t answer right away.

And at one point she believed she knew what that meant, but now she’s not so sure.

“Do you believe that?” he replies.

“I’m not going to be anyone’s weapon,” she says defiantly, typing over the laptop keys.

“Daniel Whitehall wasn’t Inhuman,” he says, and she can hear him slipping his jacket off, then walking around his desk towards her.

“He was planning on using the technology from the Diviner to kill thousands, possibly millions.”

She pauses when he’s standing behind her, rolling up his sleeves.

“He was just a man,” he says.

“Just like HYDRA’s doing now.”

“If you want to be a weapon, I guess, you could be a weapon,” he answers, then punches on the pad he’s holding with his robot hand, and the screen is filled with Joey.

A recording of him and Andrew talking.

_“Honestly, as a construction guy, the idea that I could build in a day something that would normally take months - it's unreal.”_

She can hear the excitement in his voice.

 _“Or tear something down,”_ Andrew says.

_“Yeah.”_

_“If I have to.”_

Coulson pauses the conversation.

She’s seen this several times.  Why is he showing it to her again?

“He wants to help.  And maybe he’d be a good soldier.  Or, maybe, he’d make huge advances in the way that we build together?  Maybe he’s not just a weapon.”

“You think we’re not so different,” she finishes.

“Or, Mr. Campbell, for instance,” he goes on. “Who is angry and afraid.”

“Lincoln,” she corrects him.  _Again._

“Whatever. My point is that we give them a choice to be a part of something better.  A future where we build instead of tear down,” he adds, gesturing his hand at Joey on the screen.

“Unless we want to lose everything.”

“Says the guy working with the ATCU.”

He sighs at her, and rests his prosthetic hand on the back of her chair.

“I have to hope that there is something better ahead. If I had never met you, I don’t think I would be the guy working with the ATCU right now.”

She turns back to him, checking his expression to see if he’s serious.

“I wouldn’t be doing this.”

“ _Coulson_.”

Her eyes fall on his hand, the one that he lost, and she wants to touch him, let her know that she’s still here.  That she sees he’s _so_ human.

“You changed me,” he says, withdrawing it. “I can’t go back to being the other thing.”

She doesn’t know what else to say to him, just hears the tapping of his shoes on the floor as he walks back to sit behind his desk.

 

###

 

“Never would’ve thought things could go this well.”

“We’re perilously close to a civil war,” he says, walking through the narrow halls of their secret headquarters.

“Yeah,” he smiles over at him. “I’m just excited the world didn’t end this week.”

He stops and stares back at the younger man.

"Optimistic," he says, sarcastically.

“C’mon, old man. The boss will want to see you.”

He narrows his eyes at Lincoln, but just follows after quietly until they reach the end of the hall.

Through the glass walls of the converted bunker, there’s Daisy inside, running scenarios through a laptop and watching the screen.

Lincoln opens the door and she turns to face them.

She stares at him for a moment. He looks the way he feels, a little weary. Like politics never suited him.

Which is exactly why he was the right person for it.

Lincoln leaves them alone in her office and Coulson enters, curious and methodical at looking it over, like a lost memory.

“The ride here okay?”

“Yes,” he says. “Thanks for not putting a bag over my head.”

He walks towards her desk, puts his fingers on the Hula Girl there.

“At least some things never change.”

It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in a month.  As all of their plans came together.

Even that couldn’t stop the Registration Act.

But they did expose the ATCU, and force the government to turn its eyes inward for HYDRA operatives, instead of placing the blame solely on SHIELD.

She draws out a bottle of whisky from a shelf and puts two glasses on the desk.

“Are you staying for a bit?” she asks as she pours.

“I can,” he says, lifting his glass. “They kicked me out.  I guess in the end, we did kind of embarrass them, huh?”

She gives him an amused smile.  “You’re getting good at this stuff.”

He huffs into his glass and sits back in one of the chairs across her desk, gives an approving noise as he sinks into it.

“Does that mean they’ll be back to chasing us?” she says, following his sip.

“No,” he says, raising his eyebrows at her. 

“They need us now.”

 

###

 

Their wait turns out much longer than they anticipated.

Price is one of those long-memory kinds of people that’s always trying to negotiate the highest ground in any scenario.  They wouldn't have expected less.

They’ve had to hurry up and wait while everyone else scrambles to position themselves to come out on top.

She’s worried he’s getting a bit bored, with nothing terrible having happened in the last two months.

Or, she is. 

_Ouch._

Holding her thumb up, she stares angrily at the splinter dug in just beneath her skin.

Maybe something is wrong with them?  She thinks about what he said once about them building the future and not just being weapons.

Her foot prods his ankle dangling over the edge of the old wood dock.

“What’s that for?” he asks, drawn out of his far off stare to glance over at her.

“You look bored," she says, yanking out the splinter with her teeth.

“Fishing is all about waiting,” he says, like he’s very bored.  "Did you get another splinter?"

“Yeah,” she says, leaning over and taking the pole out of his hands, reeling the line in. “What were we thinking?”

“Relaxation?  Serenity?  Avoiding traps and unnecessary entanglements? Not chasing our own tails for once?”

 _That everyone wanted them out of the base because they were ruining their downtime._  

They’re kind of pathetic, really.

“You’re so enchanting,” she grins over at him. “The perfect vacation companion.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and takes the box of lures open next to her, twists around behind him to shut them up in the tackle box.

“What if we’re just really good soldiers?” she asks, squinting up towards the sun peeking through the leaves of the trees above them.

The dappled pattern is making little spots of light all over her bare legs.

“Is that what you want your future to be?” he asks quietly, looking out at a spot on the water.

“What do _you_ think the future looks like?” she says, leaning back against the dock, shrugging at him.

Because she knows that ever since they came here two days ago, he’s been wound up even worse than when they were on the base.

“I’m looking at it,” he answers, gazing over at her. His eyes wide and a bit desperate.

“Phil,” she starts, pulling on the front of his t-shirt. “You should’ve said something.”

“I know.”

He closes the space between them, and kisses her softly, once and lingering, leaning forward across her body.

"Dammit," he says, and pulls his finger into his mouth.

“C’mon,” she says, pressing her lips near his ear. “I don’t want our reminders of this to include splinters.”

She lets go of his shirt and dusts off her palms.

“Agreed,” he smiles, standing up and pulling her to her feet after.

They start to walk then run together back towards the cabin.


End file.
